


only the critic

by lookatallthemoresigive



Category: Black Mirror
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe- No Bees, Case Fic, F/F, Hated in the Nation, Misses Clause Challenge, Murder Banksy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 19:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17049641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookatallthemoresigive/pseuds/lookatallthemoresigive
Summary: DCI Karin Parke, Met Police, gets a shadow, a PR shitstorm, and an inconvenient crush all in one month.





	only the critic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aroceu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroceu/gifts).



> Merry Yuletide and Happy Holidays! Bee gay solve crimes!!

The last place Karin wants to be at four in the morning is Camden Market. Everything in Camden feels too close together, and even in the dark the buildings seem loud and unsettling. The reporters don’t help to improve her mood. She shoulders past them, ignoring their shouted questions.

Nick’s waiting for her with an umbrella.

“Morning boss,” he says, far too awake for this godforsaken hour.

“On your bike,” Karin mutters as Nick leads her to the crime scene.

As they get closer, Karin notices one of the reporters seems dogged enough to get near the barricade. Karin adds lecturing the lids about properly securing the perimeter to her list of things to do.

“DCI Parke?” The vulture asks.

“No press,” Karin says brusquely as she ducks under the tape, confident that Nick will take care of it. The journo ducks under the tape with her.

“No, I’m not press. TDC Blue Colson. I’m your shadow.”

Karin stops short. The emails and reminders come rushing back to her sleep-deprived brain. They hadn’t mentioned she’d be so young. Too hopeful looking for what they were about to step into.

“Sorry, of course. Call me Karin.” They shake hands. 

"DS Nick Shelton,” Nick says.

"Blue."

“What are we in for, Nick?” Karin asks.

“Stabbing, one fatality. Victim is an IC1 male, appearing to be in his early forties,” Nick says. “Name’s Patrick, according to one of his rough sleeper mates that called it in.”

“Seen a body before, Blue?” Karin doesn’t want to add finding a vomit bag to her list of things to do this morning.

“A couple. On video _—_ ” Their conversation is cut short as they approach the body.

The smell hits her first. Piss and dried blood and death. The body itself is a sight. Throat slit with a jagged edge and a wedge of notes crammed into the victim’s mouth.

After they put on gloves, Blue immediately crouches down to examine the body further, unfazed. Karin exchanges a look with Nick.

“Did that mate of his who called it in see anything?” Karin asks as she moves to examine the alley. Not really much sign of a struggle.

“No, says he just stumbled upon him.”

“Convenient.” Karin crouches down and examines a trail of dried blood. “The body was moved.”

“Think I might know why,” Blue says, shining a flashlight up at the brick wall behind the victim.

The wall is covered with graffiti, but one stands out. It’s is a large stenciled image of a banker lounging on a precariously structured tower block.

“A killer with a mission statement. Brilliant,” Karin says, then frowns. The stenciling looks vaguely familiar.

“Is this a new Banksy? I haven’t seen it before,” Nick says.

“Looks like it, except he's dead,” Karin says. “His associates confirmed it. His ashes were shot out of a cannon, to “make a statement on humanity's need to make death a spectacle” or some other rubbish.” Blue and Nick stare at her. “What? I read. Do we have the codes for the nearby cams?”

“Yes, but it’ll take some time to comb through.”

“Did he have a phone?” Blue asks.

Nick nods over to one of the techs, who hands Blue the device.

“We’ll crack it back at HQ,” the tech explains.

Blue looks questioningly at Karin, who nods.

She examines it for a moment and looks around, before swiping a pattern. The mobile unlocks.

“An up arrow, like the locks,” Blue says, gesturing to the water nearby.

“Good work," Karin says. "Anything interesting on there?”

“Nothing I can see immediately,” Blue says, scrolling through texts.

“Have evidence bag and go through it. We’ll take another look later. Right now, the CCTV is top priority. After the witness gives his statement we’ll question him.” Karin turns to Nick. “Call me if you find anything. Let’s go, Blue.”

Karin checks her watch when they reach her car. “Well, the autopsy and the CCTV trawl will take some time. You peckish?”

“Ah, no, honestly, I’ll just pick up something near the Tube.”

“Get in,” Karin says.

“No, really, I _—_ ”

“ _Get in,”_ Karin says, shutting her door.

“Okay,” Blue says, looking more perturbed at this than the dead body. Karin fights off a smile.

 

* * *

 

Karin watches Blue out of the corner of her eye while they wait for their food. Blue’s looking curiously around the establishment, occasionally checking her phone for updates. She still seems mostly unbothered by the crime scene they just left. What had Blue transferred from that the grisly scene didn’t faze her?

The restaurant's busy, but mostly with takeaway orders and people hurrying to work, so they find a table easily.

“Do you think it might be gang related?” Blue asks before Karin can even take a bite of her muesli. God, was she this eager once?

“It’s possible. Someone is certainly trying to send a message. But things are usually drug, drink, and domestic, no matter their A-levels or lack thereof. Anything convoluted enough to be construed as an assassination is usually above our pay grade.”

Blue doesn’t seem satisfied with this answer, but she’ll learn. “You switched over from Tech Crime?” Karin asks. It’s better than the Bobby Blokes she's seen around the department who come in with no experience and think they’re going to be Dick Donovan. They don’t last very long, often.

“Digital Forensics. Computer murk.”

Computers. No wonder she beelined for the victim’s phone. Karin’s never cared much for new tech. For all the good it’s done them, it just seems bring crime to a new, ephemeral arena.

“What happened, you get bored of it?”

Blue smiles, slightly incredulous at that. “Ah, no, you can guess the kind of messed-up shit people entrust to these things,” she says, waving her phone. "I’ve seen it all. But out here in the field _—_ ”

“What fucking field?” Karin interrupts, glancing around the restaurant.

“Out here in the real world, not stuck behind a computer screen cleaning up messes. You can make a difference, stop this shit before it happens.”

Karin shakes her head. “You’re young.”

“Maybe you’re just old.”

“Steady,” Karin says. Her mobile buzzes. “Looks like Nick’s ready for us. Let's go find your gangsters.”

 

* * *

 

The video is pixelated and only manages to capture shadows and blurs. Karin and Blue exchange glances. “It happened in a CCTV blind spot,” Nick explains, grimacing.

“That’s just great. What’s the point of Big Brother if this is all it gives us?” Karin says.

“I’ll keep working on the different camera angles, see if I can try to find something,” Nick says.

“In the meantime, we’ll go have a chat with our friend from Camden,” Karin says.

 

“Mr. Gordon,” Karin says, sitting down across the table from him. “Where were you last night around midnight?”

“Patrick was my mate!” Lucas protests. “I called it in.”

“Where were you?”

“I was in my usual spot, near where Patrick normally is, asleep.”

“Did you see him at all last night?”

“Once. I woke up and saw him walking around. It looked like he was coming down. I was knackered, so I just turned over and went back to sleep.”

“Did he do that often?” Blue asks.

“Yeah, he usually ends _—_ ended up around the locks. He liked the water.”

“Did Mr. Williams owe anyone money?”

“We all owe people money. His amount wasn’t anything to brag about.”

“Did he have a lot of enemies among the rough sleeper community?”

“Oh, we’re fucking community now?” Lucas mutters, and shakes his head. “No. He was a good man dealt a shitty hand. Do you have any more questions, or can I go?”

Blue looks at her. “Thank you for your time,” Karin says.

 

The rest of the day is filled with paperwork and going through some mandatory training material with Blue, but the next morning Karin wakes up energized. The case seems cut and dry and Blue is shaping up to be a lively addition to the department. It’s enough to have her ignore the temptation of a danish from the canteen and instead make a smoothie for breakfast.

Her good mood evaporates when she sees Nick and Blue huddled over his monitor.

“Starting early?” Karin asks.

“I asked Nick to go over the CCTV footage again with me,” Blue says.

“Anything interesting?”

Blue nods, and drags the cursor to 2200 the previous day. “Hard to make out, but there’s no graffiti the afternoon of the attack, and there appears to be no graffiti until a couple hours before.”

“Lot of tagging happens at night. Don’t want tourists wandering around and calling us on you.”

“And the tag just happens to line up with the murder?”

Karin and Blue engage in a silent battle of will, and then Karin sighs. “Alright, we’ll go back to Camden and investigate.”

Blue nods and heads back to her desk to gather her things.

Karin turns to Nick, and he shrinks under the force of her scrutiny. “You’re keen to help,” she hisses.

“She asked!” Nick protests weakly, but Karin’s already striding off to her office.

 

* * *

 

Karin glances over at Blue as she drives. She’s watching the buildings rush past them, as if she can slow them down and puzzle out their secrets. If anyone could, it’d be Blue.

She focuses back on the road and frowns. Karin doesn’t know why she was so snappish at Nick and Blue this morning. It’s best to nip office romances in the bud, but this felt like more. Could she have been jealous? No. Sure, Blue’s beautiful and charming, but she’s too young and cheerful for her.

“You think the graffiti is irrelevant,” Blue says, breaking the silence.

“We’re doing what you want, aren’t we?”

“But you think it’s a waste of time.”

“Chasing down dead ends is part of the job. You’ll get bored of it soon enough.”

Blue looks at her.

“Okay, yeah, that was a bit patronizing,” Karin says. 

 

It does, incidentally, turn out to be a dead end. They talk to local shop owners and corner some roadmen, but nobody seems to know who did it.

“We’ll have Forensics look at it, but for now, it just seems to be a coincidence,” Karin says.

Karin gives her a lift home, Blue scowling most of the way.

“Thanks,” Blue says, getting out of the car. She pauses and turns on her heel. “Karin?”

“Yeah?”

“Nick and I? There's nothing to worry about,” Blue says, an inscrutable expression on her face as she holds Karin’s gaze.

Karin spends the rest of the night trying to puzzle it out.

 

* * *

 

“Mr. Gordon, you’ve been holding out on us,” Karin says, days and more dead ends and investigative work later. “Patrick owed you money, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, but he was going to pay me back. He always paid me back. I didn’t kill him over twenty quid!”

“Maybe it wasn’t the money. Maybe he had a nicer coat, better shoes. Maybe you were just tired of the same cycle,” Karin says.

“It wasn’t me! I swear, check my phone, take my prints, do whatever you need!”

“But there weren’t any prints, and you know that. You can tell your side of the story to a solicitor. We’re done here,” Karin says, and walks out of the interrogation room. Nick's waiting outside.

“We’ve got him. Thanks for your help, Nick.”

“Excellent, boss,” Nick says.

“Blue?” Karin says, turning to face her.

“Yeah?”

“Sometimes things just are cut and dry," she says, putting a hand on her shoulder. "No need to wallow. I’m sure you’ll crack down some gangs sooner than later.”

“Noted, boss,” Blue says.

“Now, we get to celebrate. With paperwork.”

"That's the reason Blue transferred," Nick says. "The allure of the paperwork."

Karin sinks into bed that night, satisfied.

 

* * *

 

_There’s a body underneath her. Soft, warm, alive, with enough skin to make her dizzy. Karin kisses her way up, open-mouthed, their bodies slick with sweat._

_“Karin,” a voice moans._

_“Blue,” she says, reaching her lips._

Karin wakes up with a gasp. “Fucking hell,” she mutters, and pushes back her hair, matted with sweat. “Shit.”

 

* * *

 

Work’s awkward, that day. Karin’s on edge, even though she spends most of it doing paperwork. Being anywhere near Blue makes her want to jump out of her skin. It’s beyond inappropriate and frustratingly unhelpful.

“We are going to fix this,” Karin mutters to her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her reflection frowns back at her.

 

Karin surveys the bar as she drinks her pint. It’s been ages since she’s been to Ku, let alone for Ruby Tuesdays. The club is as raucous as ever, even this early in the night. Looking out into the sea of young and lively faces, she feels silly for coming in. Karin’s too old for this sort of thing.

She ends up getting into a discussion about Glasgow with a redheaded woman, and a Swede manages to pry Karin’s job out of her, and suddenly drinks are being sent her way.

Once they realize Karin isn’t keen to tell tales, they leave her alone.

Karin looks at the lagers on tap and debates her last drink of the night when she hears a throat clearing behind her. She turns around.

“So, I’ve heard you’re the detective?” The woman’s around her age, with beautiful long black hair, intelligent eyes, and a intriguing smile.

“Word spreads quickly around here, it seems,” Karin says.

“Well, solving crimes, putting away the bad guys, it’s all very exciting.”

“It’s more paperwork than anything.”

“Well, your paperwork is probably more dangerous than my spreadsheets.”

Karin smiles at that.

“I’m Yu.”

“Karin.”

“Honestly, I was relieved when I saw you. I thought I was the only person over thirty in here,” Yu says.

“Is that why you’re talking to me?”

“Not the only reason.” Yu smiles. “I’m here for a conference, but I wanted to see the city. ”

“London’s _—_ ” Karin starts to say, and pauses. It’s timeless and medieval. Frigid and proper. Home and foreign. “ _—_ alright.”

"Well, if people here are anything like you, then it has to be a pretty great city," Yu says.

Karin blushes, and then raises her nearly empty glass. "To not staying in."

"To adventure," Yu says, and they clink their glasses together.

 

A couple of drinks later, Yu checks her phone and frowns. “It’s getting late, does the Tube still run?”

“I can help you get back,” Karin offers, and then grimaces at her boldness.

“A beautiful detective as my escort? I’d be honored.”

“If you put it that way, I might have to charge you.”

“I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”

Karin smiles, and finishes her drink.

 

An insistent buzzing noise startles Karin into consciousness. Groggily, she turns off her alarm and glances at the time. “Fuck,” she mutters, and hurriedly gets dressed. The sleeping form on the other side of the bed doesn’t seem to have registered the noise. Karin hastily writes a note and leaves it on Yu’s nightstand.

Traffic’s awful and she’s in last night’s clothes, but Karin can’t stop grinning as she gets to the station. Last night was just what she needed to get her mind off of things.

The morning passes quietly, with Karin working on some open investigations she had before Blue. If things keep being this calm, Karin might have to dig up some cold cases.

“Wait, boss, are you _smiling_?” Blue asks when they’re on their lunch break.

“It’s called being in a good mood, Blue. It happens to the best of us,” Karin says. “And thank you for volunteering to go get us takeaway.”

“Mum always worried I’d end up as some glorified gofer,” Blue says, grabbing her coat and heading off.

Karin rolls her eyes fondly, and leans back in her chair. All in all, things are getting back to normal.

“Boss, you won’t believe this.” Nick storms into her office, Blue in tow. He holds up his phone. On the screen is a picture of a body next to a wall with stenciled graffiti. “They’ve found another one.”

 

* * *

 

Another one, it turns out, means a forty-five year old American tourist near Tower Hill.

“An assassination in broad daylight,” Blue says as they walk up to the scene. “That’s bold. Someone’s trying to make a statement.”

“In Tower Hill, no less. At least it’s not in the City proper,” Karin says. That would’ve been a jurisdictional nightmare. “Get someone on damage control, we don’t want the NCA or anyone else muscling in on this. We can handle it.”

“Too late,” Nick says, as they spot a tall man in a suit supervising the crime scene.

“I’m looking for DCI Parke,” The man says as they approach.

“That’d be me,” Karin says.

“Shaun Li, National Crime Agency.”

“You got to it quick.”

“Not quick enough. The US Embassy is already involved.”

Karin exchanges glances with Nick and Blue.

“The victim was stabbed with a needle in the back of her neck," Li says. "Arsenic.”

They take a look at the crime scene, but Li's team had already gone through it and done most of the work. Being in person at least gives them a better look at the graffiti. It's of a woman taking a selfie surrounded by rubble. 

"Well, the deaths are different, but the graffiti is quite similar," Nick says.

"Multiple homicides with the same, Banksy inspired graffiti? This is can't be a coincidence," Blue says.

"You're right, Blue," Karin says. "The graffiti's involved, somehow, and we need to figure out how and why."

“It's definitely related, but right now the victim's the priority," Li says. "We’ll head back, compare notes, and then question the victim’s family. NCA's set up a tipline, just in case.”

Karin nods, and Li strides off to a vaguely modern-looking car.

“Just brilliant,” Karin mutters.

“He could’ve completely shut us out, but he didn’t. Needs us, probably,” Blue says.

“Let’s keep it that way. Nick, we'll come for the cam footage after we interview the family.”

“See you then," Nick says.

Karin heads off to her car, Blue following.

 

* * *

 

Questioning the family was a bust, and the NCA suit barely let them get a word in edgewise.

“Seems like the word’s out,” Blue says as she shows Karin her computer. It’s open to the homepage of the Daily Mail, with the top headline reading _BANKSY TURNED KILLER? FAMOUS STREET GRAFFITI CONNECTED TO AMERICAN TOURIST DEATH!_

“Christ.” Karin rubs her temples. “Who the hell leaked this shit to the press?”

“This happened in a major tourist area. It’s not a surprise someone spilled, what with cameras in the palm of everyone’s hands,” Blue says. “Social media caught on as well, it seems. It’s a Moment now.” Blue switches tabs to a collection of tweets with the hashtag #MurderBanksy.

 _oi banksy if you’re looking for someone to shank my flatmate is available and i’ve got a tenner cheers mate,_ reads one.

“Lovely,” Karin mutters.

"Also, I think I might've found something,” Blue says, showing Karin her phone. “CityScratch. It’s a tourist app for street art, but it also has a section for street artists to find patrons, both parties anonymous.”

“What, you think we should invest?”

“Three weeks ago, someone posted about a request for a tag in Camden. And five days ago there was request for a tag in Tower Hill. The timelines match up, and it could maybe explain why we haven't found more similarities between the two crime scenes if we're dealing with a serial killer.”

“I might have some contacts we could use,” Karin says. “For now, keep digging.”

Blue nods, and gets back to it.

 

* * *

 

“Oh good, you’re wearing your glasses,” Karin says, walking out of her office to Blue’s desk a few days later with a large box.

“Good morning to you too,” Blue says, raising an eyebrow.

Karin flushes, and puts the box down on Blue's desk. It’s not as if Blue’s glasses are the first thing she notices about her. They do make her look older and slightly mysterious in a way that Karin particularly fancies, but that’s not important right now. Karin grabs a denim jacket from out of the box. “The glasses will help with the look. Here, put this on.”

Blue tilts her head slightly, but takes the jacket. “Are we putting on a fashion show?”

Karin fishes in the box and pulls out an overly large infinity scarf for herself. “Worse, actually. We’re going out. To Shoreditch.”

“Ah," Blue says. "Wait, is that a clip on, or do you actually have a helix piercing?”

“We need to get moving if we want to meet our contact in time,” Karin says, starting to regret the entire thing.

“What about Li?” Blue asks as she jogs after her.

“He’s off dealing with the US Embassy.”

“Does he know what we’re doing?”

“He will, after,” Karin says.

  

“Took you long enough,” Zehra says when they approach.

“Zehra, this is Blue. Blue, this is Zehra Polat. She’s a friend, and moves in London art circles.”

“No, Evelyn moved in the art circles. I make them,” Zehra says, grinning.

Blue raises an eyebrow.

“My ex-wife,” Karin explains.

“But Karin kept me in the divorce. Funny how things work out.”

“Wait, won’t they recognize you, then?” Blue asks.

“It’s been ages since I’ve even stepped in a gallery, and art circles move fast here. Besides, people only look for what they think they’ll see.”

“Clever. So, why are you calling in a favour, Karin?” Zehra asks over her shoulder as she leads them into a warehouse.

“It’s classified, hence why we have to be here.”

The warehouse is filled with sculptures and paintings in various stages, and Zehra navigates them through and up the stairs at a dizzying pace.

“Classified, huh? Looks like you’re moving up.”

Karin makes a noncommittal noise, to which Blue smirks.

“Oi! Straighten up lads, I’ve brought some guests,” Zehra says as she opens the first door on the right.

“Can’t. Got told to get bent in middle school, and I’ve been ever since,” a man with turquoise colour hair says, and the rest of the group laughs.

“Tosser,” Zehra says fondly. “This my mate Agnes,” she gestures towards Karin, and Karin can feel Blue shake with concealed laughter, “and her friend, Paige.” Zehra gestures at Blue, and then heads for the nearest beanbag.

“Kieran,” The turquoise haired-man says.

“Minji,” The woman sitting next to him says.

“Prisha.”

“Ella.”

“Victor.”

“Kabir.”

“Hey up,” Karin says politely.

Zehra gestures toward them, and Karin and Blue sit down on the couch near Prisha.

Ella lights a joint, and passes it around.

Karin can feel Blue’s eyes on her, and she nods. She takes a hit, and passes it on to Blue. Lucky for their cover, Blue doesn’t cough.

It’s nice, Karin can admit to herself when the weed kicks in, to have all her worries fade away for a bit. To feel good.

They talk for some time about local art gossip, Karin mentions some of the differences up in Glasgow, and Blue occasionally chimes in about internet things when she’s not looking into space, smiling.

“Have any of you heard about this CityScratch app?” Karin asks. “I’m thinking about using it for commissions, but I’m not sure if it’s a scam.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve had some mates use it. The anonymous stuff can be skeevy, but the money’s good,” Kabir says.

“Using that tourist app for commissions? Is it more of a London thing?" Victor asks.

“Could be. The only artists I know of using it are here in Shoreditch," Zehra says.

"No, my mates are in Bankside," Kabir says.

"I've also heard of some people getting commissions up in Camden," Prisha adds.

"Agnes, have you seen it up in Glasgow?” Minji asks.

"I haven't yet, but I think it might be soon," Karin says. "I guess we’ll have to look more into it, right Paige?”

“Money’s money,” Blue says, and the artists laugh.

 

Blue’s pupils are still blown, an hour later when they leave.

“Are you still high?” Karin asks in disbelief.

Blue shrugs, in a way that incriminates her further.

“C’mon, let’s go get you a bagel,” Karin says, steering her.

“At least we blend in,” Blue says, and giggles. The sound makes Karin’s stomach swoop. She ignores it.

 

“Well, I still think it’s unlikely our Banksy used the app,” Karin says as they walk back to her car, bagels in hand. “Too easy for us to track.”

“But what if that’s the point?" Blue says, taking a bite of her bagel. "It seems like they're trying to send a message."

“I don’t _—_ ,” Karin cuts herself off as she notices Christmas music blasting from a nearby shop. “Oh, great,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“Not a fan of Christmas?”

“Christmas just means people are in a frenzy, which often leads to more work for us. Besides, the Superintendent usually picks a rubbish pub for our Christmas lunch, so watch out.”

“How about we make a bet? If he isn’t using CityScratch, I’ll make up an excuse to get you out of the lunch. If he is, you have to wear an ugly jumper of my choosing to the party, and insist that your Nan made it.”

“Alright Blue, you’ve got yourself a deal.” They shake hands.

 

* * *

 

“Looking smart, boss,” Blue says, navigating through the crowded pub and bringing her a glass of mulled wine.

Karin glances down at the garish blue monstrosity she’s currently wearing. “Grannie loved reindeer,” she deadpans, taking the drink. “I liked you better when you were wrong about things,” Karin murmurs over the rim of her glass. They had found a new post on CityScratch too similar to the others to be a coincidence.

“It’s only cause you’re such a good mentor,” Blue says cheerfully, like the prat she is.

Karin suffers through some ribbing from their colleagues and dodges questions about the status of the case for an hour, until she feels a hand on her arm.

“Boss, got an update. I’ll tell you more about it in the car.”

“Duty calls,” Karin says, and they duck out of the pub into the frigid December wind.

“Where's the fire? Did you tell Nick?” Karin starts the car.

“I’ve set up an account on CityScratch to bait Banksy.”

“I know, I was there.”

“Guess it must’ve slipped my mind,” Blue says, grinning.

“Cheeky. You’re starting to get a hang of the job.”

“You weren’t kidding about the pub being rubbish. Though I will accept praise and accolades for my brilliant acting in the form of alcohol.”

“Deal. You mind if it’s at mine? I think I’ve had enough crowds for one night.”

“That’d, yeah, I’d be fine with that,” Blue says.

* * *

 

“He ate thirty of them, in ten minutes. To this day, my brother can’t look at mince pies without feeling a little queasy,” Karin says.

“A legend, truly,” Blue says, laughing. “Wait, I just remembered!” She grabs her purse and pulls out a handful of Christmas crackers. “I got roped into helping out, so I nicked these extras.”

“No,” Karin moans. “They’re the worst.”

They’re a few drinks in, sitting on Karin’s couch. It had felt slightly awkward and almost too personal to have Blue in here at first, but the alcohol quickly took care of that. She hasn’t felt this cozy and comfortable in her own flat in ages.

It takes some coaxing, but eventually Karin’s game enough to open the crackers with Blue.

“They’re so disappointing,” she complains, putting on a crown and watching the fortune telling fish squirm in her hand. “And that’s not even getting into the jokes.”

“What was the first motorised vegetable?” Blue reads, adjusting her crown.

“I am not encouraging this.”

“The horseless cabbage. See, being a Luddite, you don’t know important moments in British, nay, human history, and that’s just sad,” Blue says with almost believable conviction. Karin stares at her, and then they break into laughter.

Karin leans back into the couch, shaking her head. “What am I going to do without you, Blue?”

“Solve less murders. Who knows, maybe I’ll get assigned to your borough.”

Karin flushes with pleasure at the idea. “You seem confident you’ll pass.”

“Like I said, I have a good mentor,” Blue says, holding her gaze.

Karin looks away and picks up the final cracker. “Last one.”

They twist it together, and Blue digs out the crown. “All yours, boss.”

Karin rolls her eyes, but takes it. She carefully, delicately balances the second crown on her head.

“You look fantastic,” Blue says, taking pictures. She can barely hold onto her mobile she’s laughing so hard. Karin hasn’t seen her smile like this in ages. Blue looks beautiful. Radiant. “Everyone’s going to love this.” Blue looks up at her as her laughter subsides.

Karin leans in so fast the stupid hats go flying off her head. She’s close enough to Blue to be beyond friendly, beyond a partner, beyond a mentor.

Ashamed, she pulls back. “Well, you can’t send it tonight. Got to maintain our cover,” Karin says, looking around for the fallen pieces of paper tissue.

She finds them and glances back up. Blue’s face is a lot closer than Karin expects. She chances one traitorous glance to Blue’s lips, and then Blue’s kissing her.

The intensity nearly doubles her over. It’s enough to make her drop the hats and cup Blue’s head as she pulls her up. Blue swipes her tongue over Karin’s bottom lip, daring, teasing. Karin opens her mouth willingly, pressing Blue into the couch, a knee between her legs. Blue makes a small noise of approval at that, and Karin feels deliriously giddy.

A rustling sound brings her back to reality.

It’s the fucking hats.

She swings herself as far away from Blue as possible.

DCI Parke, divorced from human emotion, married to her job, is snogging her shadow. They’re going to give her a medal for this one.

“I'm sorry,” Karin manages to get out as she stumbles away from the couch. “Once we finish this case, I’ll get you transferred to another DCI. It’ll be pretty late in the process, but I have some favours to cash in.”

“What if I don’t want that?” Blue says as she stands up. The steel in her voice takes Karin aback.

“You can’t be serious,” Karin says. “Blue, look at me. I’m old, bitter, and my last go-around ended in flames. You have your whole career ahead of you. I’m bloody well not going to ruin that.”

“You don’t know that,” Blue says, reaching out for her. “There’s no reason to _—_ ”

“ _—_ Blue,” Karin interrupts, her eyes unflinching as she takes a step back. “Go home. Now.”

They stare down each other in silence, long enough for Karin to hear the muffled sounds of the city outside.

“Fine.” Blue’s the first one to break. She grabs her messenger bag and jerks it over her head. “See you tomorrow, _boss_.” She wrenches the door open, and lets it slam shut with the force of the December wind.

All the tension leaves Karin’s body and she collapses on the couch, boneless.

She doesn’t sleep well, that night.

 

* * *

 

Karin pauses the next morning and takes a deep breath, clutching the donut in her hand. It’s early, too early for Blue’s to be in yet. Still, Karin walks past Blue’s desk gingerly. This is ridiculous, she thinks to herself, taking a bite of the pastry. She’s a forty year old woman, not a bairn.

Li is the next one in the office, which doesn’t help improve her mood.

“Could be a gang, trying to go viral. It has to be a group,” Li argues, after she briefs him on what he missed yesterday, reporting to his NCA superiors.

“This is too much attention. Too easy to make mistakes,” Karin says.

Blue barges in to Karin's office. They lock eyes and both quickly look away.

“Sorry to interrupt," Blue says. "CityScratch got a hit.”

 

“Looks like he learned how to cross the river,” Karin says, arms crossed, as they watch the Elephant & Castle CCTV feed. Karin’s been at the station a quarter past eleven more times than she’d care to recall, but never with this much commotion.

“Everyone’s in position,” DC Harris says quietly over the comms.

“Go ahead,” Shaun says.

Harris pulls his hood up and gets to stenciling.

The stencil, sent as a 3D printer file, is of a lion and a unicorn poised to strike a young girl wearing rags.

“He’s gotten quite subtle,” Blue says.

The work takes a couple of hours, after which Harris takes a picture and uploads it to the app. Harris prepares to leave, when a man approaches him.

“Hey mate, some random bloke just paid me a hundred quid to tell you “better luck next time,” if that makes any sense to you.” The man pats Harris on the shoulder. “Cheers.”

 

* * *

 

“What other contact you have had with this number?” Karin demands, slamming her hands on the interrogation table. Gilbert Durand, Karin’s latest headache, jumps.

“I told you, that’s the only text I’ve gotten. It came out of nowhere and it literally just says “£100 if you tell the man across the street better luck next time. Money will be delivered through a mobile payment service,” which I still haven’t gotten yet, by the way. I’m a barista. London’s expensive. Thought it wouldn’t hurt to try,” Gilbert says.

“Just brilliant,” Karin says, rubbing her temples.

“Story matches up,” Blue says quietly to Karin. “It’s a burner number. We’re working to see if we can find some way to track it.”

“Can I go now? I have an opening shift tomorrow,” Gilbert says.

“You’d be lucky to leave here with a caution, Mr. Durand. You have interfered with a criminal investigation, and could possibly be an accessory to murder. But that doesn’t have to happen, if you cooperate with us,” Karin says.

“Look, I don’t _—_ ” Gilbert stops suddenly and clutches his stomach, looking concerningly off-colour. “I think I’m _—_ ” He staggers out of the chair and collapses onto the floor, curling into himself and vomiting.

“Someone get paramedics, now!” Karin yells.

Karin tries to move Gilbert on his back, so he won’t choke on his sick, but he’s shaking violently. She checks his pulse. His blood pressure is low. The shaking stops, so Karin tries to pull him up, but he’s heavy, and his eyes are closing. “No, come on, you have to keep them open,” Karin demands.

Blue drags her back as paramedics storm the room. She pulls Karin up and guides her out. “He has to keep them open,” Karin says.

 

* * *

 

It’s the first person Karin’s seen die.

She’s never enjoyed mandatory counseling, but it helps, somewhat.

They find traces of methanol in his system, but no leads as to how or when it was put in there.

Using CityScratch is clearly out. They’re back to square one.

Blue takes it hard.

 

It’s half past seven, and Blue’s back is ramrod straight as she pours over her computer screen, the blue light reflecting in her glasses. Karin’s always hated that light.

Karin looks at the cup of tea in her hand, light milk no sugar, and sets it down gently near Blue. She straightens her coat and starts to leave. If Blue finds anything, she’ll call her. She’ll call her first.

“You don’t have to do this.”

Karin turns around. “I _—_ ”

“You don’t have to treat me like a fucking child.” Blue’s eyes are nearly grey, as cold and relentless as the damp morning they met.

“I’m not _,_ ” Karin says. She steps closer to Blue and drops her voice down to a whisper. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you can’t do this alone. You can avoid me, Nick, your mandatory counseling, but that’s not going to stop him, or make what you’re going through go away. You don’t want tea? Fine. But you sure as shit aren’t getting rid of us.”

They lock eyes for what feels like ages, until Karin nods and turns away.

Karin’s halfway through the drive back to her flat when she realizes she’s crying.

The next morning, there’s coffee sitting on her desk.

 

* * *

 

“Karin!” Blue calls out, a week later. “We got something.”

Karin, Nick, and Shaun huddle around Blue’s desk.

“So, obviously, I’ve been staring at images of the graffiti for ages now. I’ve researched them, used all the steganography techniques I could think of. Then, putting all the stencils together, tracing the negative space, I noticed something. It’s part of a QR code.”

“I knew there had to be more to this graffiti angle,” Shaun says.

“Is it the same QR code, over and over?” Karin asks.

“No, they’re just pieces of it. We don’t have enough to have a full picture, but Nick and I used neural nets to complete it.”

“It’s a PDF,” Nick says, nearly vibrating with excitement. “A tirade, about how governments have sold their citizens out to companies instead of protecting us, so they could spy on us. Now every part of us, from our favorite band down to our DNA, is for sale.”

“Probably right on that front,” Blue mutters.

“Yeah, yeah, that Zuckerberg bloke’s a cunt, we know,” Karin says. “Does it detail their methods?”

“No, but he seems to be one man working alone. We’ll keep combing over it.”

“Good work,” Karin says. “Now let’s get this bastard.”

 

* * *

 

Karin gets out of her car and slams the door shut, looking up the hill at an innocuous house sitting quietly in the Kent countryside.

He made a mistake. His PDF was technologically airtight, with nary a metadata tag in sight. But the accusations he levied at the DNA testing companies was specific. Too specific.

It takes more time than Karin likes, but they manage to track him down. Isaac Evans, software engineer and failed entrepreneur. He was let go from a DNA testing company, Wilkins & Franklin, on disagreeable terms.

Someone from the armed unit comes out of the house. "Clear!" He shouts.

“How could he have known,” Karin muses, as she and Blue look around the house.

Blue phone starts vibrating, and she takes it out of her pocket. “I’m sorry, I _—_. It’s the app. CityScratch. My phone’s locked. I can't _—_ ”

“Good afternoon, detectives,” a modulated voice coming from Blue’s phone says. “Hope you’re enjoying the countryside. The air is refreshing, don’t you think?” Karin and Blue exchange glances, and Karin signals an officer to get Shaun.

“Evans,” Karin spits out. “We’re going to find you.”

“I know. I’m impressed, honestly. I didn’t think you’d figure it out so quickly. Moves my timeline up a bit, but, what can you do? I have to admit, I cheated. I used the location data tracking on the app to figure out you were coming. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Is this the part where you tell us your tragic backstory? Because you can fucking save it,” Karin says. Shaun enters the room, and gestures some of the officers to try to track the phone signal.

“Whatever you wish to know. I’m an open book."

"The murders. How did you do it, and why?" Blue asks.

"Black market anonymous contract killings, easy enough. Cheaper than you'd think. They all downloaded the CityScratch app, and then it was so easy to construct their patterns, their habits, it was almost boring. Used a random number generator to choose them. I needed them to help make a statement. See, with all the things competing for our attention, it's hard to get people to take you seriously. Bodies start dropping, though, then they start listening. After today, they'll really start listening. And I want to make it clear to you that what happens next, you cannot stop. I’m a good sport, though. I gave you a hint. I always give you a hint. You've ever heard of the game Nim, chief inspector?”

Shaun motions for her to keep him talking. “Can’t say that I have,” Karin says through gritted teeth.

“Not surprising, it’s quite ancient. Fascinating game. Everyone loves chess, but it’s so unpredictable. Annoying. Nim, however, is pretty straightforward. You have a couple piles of stones, and two players take turns taking away the stones. They can take away as many as they like in a pile, but they have to take away at least one. The person to take away the last stone loses. Your _top secret_ investigation, my anonymity. I’m not a fool. I know how this ends for me. But the more interesting question, is how does this end for you, and those bloated corporations you protect? This is a misère game, Chief Inspector. I know the winning positions. Do you?”

“Game theory was a boring module,” Blue says, holding her mobile so tightly Karin's afraid it might break.

An officer makes a thumbs up gesture, and Shaun nods at them.

“Someone should’ve told you that you talk too much,” Blue says, and turns off her phone.

“Got him. He’s in London, near Southwark,” the officer says.

“Wilkins & Franklin,” Shaun says. “Let’s go.”

“Wait!” Karin says. “He’s smarter than this. He must’ve known that we’d be able figure out his location if he stayed on for that long. It has to be a trap.”

“It’s our only lead, and one we’ll lose if we don’t move, _now_ ,” Shaun says.

Karin clenches her fist, the blood in her veins like ice.

 

* * *

 

“Wilkins & Franklin. Sounds like a fashion company,” Evans says in a prerecorded video, the sound of which can be heard from every phone and television in London. “Guess that’s the point, right? Sounds posh. It’d be an _honor_ to give them your DNA. Except, what do they do with your DNA, besides telling you that you’re genetically disposed to have cilantro taste like soap? Do you want to know what they’re _really_ doing? I have all their dirty little secrets, from selling your DNA to third parties to giving it to the government without your consent.”

Blue and Karin are running towards Wilkins & Franklin. They’d called bomb disposal, but time’s running out.

“You are in danger,” Blue is screaming into the phone, at the head of the company. “Evacuate the entire building, now!” Karin has never felt so fucking scared in her life.

“But if you’ve given them your DNA already, not to worry,” Evans continues. “I’ll take care of that. But it’s just one company. The rest, I’m afraid, is up to you.”

Karin skids to a stop once they get close enough to see the building. She pulls Blue back. They’re just in time to witness the bomb go off.

 

* * *

 

It was a trap. All their careful planning, tracking down clues, and it was just a trail of fucking breadcrumbs.

There’s blood on Karin’s hands from helping with the rescue efforts. She wipes them on her blazer.

Debriefing is a slow, cruel torture. When they’re released, they sit in Karin’s car for a good ten minutes, numb.

“It’s _—_ ”

“ _—_ not your fucking fault,” Karin interrupts, glaring at her. “Not one bit.”

Blue exhales, but it doesn’t seem to do much for her.

“I’ll take you home,” Karin says, switching on the car. Blue covers Karin’s hand on the gear lever.

“Not home,” Blue says. “And not out. I don’t, I can’t be alone right now.”

Karin swallows thickly, nods, and puts the car in drive.

 

Later, the only clear thing she'll remember from that night is the feeling of dipping down into the mattress, and Blue curling against her.

 

* * *

 

He’s captured alive.

They’re called to testify him, and soon it’s what their jobs, their lives orbit around. Court dates, rescheduling, those unbearable hours on the stand, appeals.

The second time they kiss, it’s to get the taste of blood out of their mouths.

 

* * *

 

Their sleeping arrangement becomes a habit. The bed’s their only bulwark against the storm and the nightmares that haunt them, both waking and sleeping. Days blur into weeks, weeks to months.

“It’s funny,” Blue says one night, indiscernible from all the rest. “According to everyone, we’re either heroes or bumbling incompetents that should be strung up along with him," she whispers into the crevice of Karin’s neck, their bodies a jumbled distortion of limbs.

“It’s the modern century,” Karin says, stroking Blue’s hair. “Why can’t we be both?”

“Hmm,” Blue says, pressing a kiss into Karin’s collarbone and turning off the light.

 

* * *

 

“Congratulations on a successful first day, Detective Constable,” Karin says, grinning. It’s six months later, enough time that their nightmares have faded, occurring once a month at the most. “What would you like to do to celebrate?”

“Well, I’ve never been on the Eye. Maybe we could go to the Tate Modern?” Blue says, taking the mick. 

Karin fondly rolls her eyes. She leans in and kisses her, a temptation and a promise.

“Or we could go back to your place and order takeaway,” Blue says once she regains her breath.

“You know Blue, I think you have the makings of a brilliant detective,” Karin says, wrapping an arm around Blue’s waist.

The station gleams in the warm August sun.

**Author's Note:**

> "The criminal is the creative artist; the detective only the critic."  
> -Gilbert K. Chesterton


End file.
